Wreck Me (21 page)

I said goodbye to Damon and sent him into his office to get some work done, then scurried from the Penthouse with Hemingway tucked into the crook of my elbow. We ride the elevator down to the first floor and I locate Damon’s Beamer. I tried to argue with him, but he shoved the keys at me and did that clenched jaw thing. I click the locks with the fancy key fob and slip across the supple leather seat.

“Sweet,” I mutter to myself. I situate little Hemingway in my lap and start the car. We set out towards the store to find circus peanut candy for Grams. I think I have seen that stuff at the convenient store my apartment.

“Stay here,” I say to the fur ball and lightly tap his nose. I hurry inside the store and luck out. They had a full shelf of the sugary stuff. I open my bag when the cashier gives me my total. I dig out my wallet and nearly piss myself. A wad of one hundred dollar bills are shoved into my wallet haphazardly.

“Ahem, ma’am?” I snap out of my shocked daze and pay for the candy. I hurry back to Hemingway and get into the car. I don’t waste any time. With a flick of my thumb I am dialing Damon. He answers on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“You shoved thousands of dollars into my purse!” I sound like a dumbass! Who yells at their boyfriend for being so damn saint like?

“Do I need to remind you of our conversation about being proud?” I groan down the line. I should have known that no amount of protest will make a difference. My wealthy boyfriend is not going to let me struggle. I am grateful for him. There is no doubt about how much I appreciate him and all he has already done for me, but I just don’t like feeling like a charity case or a burden. It’s a complex, I guess.

“No. Thank you,” I bemoan.

“You’re welcome. You may want to go to the pet supply store for Hemi. He’ll need all that puppy stuff.” I look down at him curled up in my lap and realize that I haven’t the slightest clue what the hell a puppy requires.

“Okay, I’ll take care of it. See you later.”

“Bye, baby.” The line disconnects and I point the car in the direction of Grams retirement home.

Twenty minutes later I pull the beamer into a parking space and carefully stuff Hemingway into my bag. The pliable little puppy doesn’t even wake when I move him from my lap to my bag.

“Grams?” I tap on her open suite door and I am glad to see she is not napping. She cranes her neck to peek over at the door and she lights up a lot like Damon does.

“Josephine! Did you bring the goods?” She says in a low, discrete tone. I shake my head at the old woman’s antics and dangle the plastic shopping back at her. She takes it from my hand and smiles wide as she counts the bags of candy I brought her.

“Oh, honey you’ve made my month!” She coos. I feel proud that I have pleased her. It seems stupid to be proud over bringing her some candy, but part of me really wants her to like me. I guess it probably the same part of me that knows I could easily fall for Damon in a major way.

“So, how are you feeling today?” She waves me off as she stuffs a circus peanut into her mouth.

“I’m fine. I ran a couple miles this morning and that always makes me feel extra spry.” She winks at me and I can’t help but fall head over heels in love with the old woman. She has an amazing personality that I know I can relate to. I bet she didn’t take any shit from anyone in her day. I want to tell her as much.

“I bet you never take any shit off anyone, do you?” I swipe a peanut from her hand when she holds it out to me.

“Well, am I white, made of paper and come rolled up on a cardboard tube?” She asks straight faced as could be.

“No.”

“Then no. If I took shit off anyone I guess I’d be better off named Toilet Paper.” I nearly choke on the circus peanut I have stuffed in my mouth and the old hag cackles her ass off at me.

“Touche. Touche, Grams.” We continue to eat candy and I open my bag every minute or so to check on Hemingway. He is fast asleep curled up in the darkness of my big bag. I like this little fur ball. He is easy to please.

“So who are these people in your picture frames?” I walk over to a frame sitting on a side table and lift it to show her.

“Oh that would be Damon’s half sister Elise. And just there in that silver frame is my son Edward. And that brown frame next to that is Damon at his high school graduation.” Edward. Edward. The guy who pissed off Damon last night. He said his dad is a drunk. Makes sense. I decide to press for information.

“So, I guess Damon and Edward don’t get along very well.” She makes a huffing noise under her breath.

“They don’t get along at all honey. I love my son, but I’m not very proud of the things he has done. When Damon came along and his mama couldn’t keep him she gave him over to Edward. Now Edward didn’t want Damon either, but I sure as hell made that son of mine handle his responsibilities. I didn’t raise him to do the things he has done, but I have tried to make wrong things, right as they come.” She hangs her head slightly when she talks about Damon’s father. My chest aches for her a bit. It’s obvious that she has dealt with more than any one woman should. I feel the need to cheer her up and I think I know the trick.

“Hey want to see what Damon got me?” She nods and I reach into my bag and lift out Hemingway. The old lady gasps and lights up when she see the little fur ball.

“Oh that’s just like Damon to use a puppy to gain your love and affection. The boy has animal instincts like none other. It’s why he is so successful you know,” she dotes on her grandson. I hand her the puppy and watch as she cuddles him and kisses the top of his little apple shaped head.

We visit for a while longer then I decide it best to get going. I have no idea how often puppies eat or use the bathroom. I still have to get to the pet store then back to Damon’s place. I say my goodbyes to Grams and promise to visit again soon.

“So, I don’t suppose you could help your new mom out by cluing me in on what the hell I’m suppose to buy you? No? Okay, Hemingway. We’ll figure it out together.” I sit in the driver’s seat holding my fur ball up to my face. We gaze at each other, green eyes to brown, nose to snout. He just sits there. I set him back in place in my lap and drive towards the pet supplies mega store. It’s the size of a supermarket and people drag their pets in there to shop with them. I feel a little excited to go buy him some puppy things. Whatever they may be. It makes me wonder if he has had anything at all. Puppy food in little puppy bowls. A bed to sleep in. I look down at him and the place in my chest where I assume my heart lay dormant warms and aches for little Hemingway.

“Let’s buy some shit,” I say to the sleepy fur ball as we exit the car. I walk into the puppy store and on an emotional impulse buy with someone else’s money, I fill two carts with shit that this dog may or may not even use. I think I have purchased one of everything. He now has everything from puppy vitamins in the shape of a doggie biscuit to a stroller. A damn stroller. I know I am going to catch all kinds of shit for buying the doggie stroller, but what if I want to take him on a long excursion like the tag says? He may tire in Las Vegas heat. The stroller is useful. That’s exactly what I will tell Damon. I pay for my purchases with Damon’s wad of one-hundred dollar bills and load down the beamer.

“Now that we have done some damage, let’s go see your new daddy and show him all this shit. What do you say Hemingway?” He stares at me then opens his puppy mouth wide and yawns. I kiss his little head and put him in place for our trip back to Damon’s penthouse.

I park in his reserved space and dial him from my cell phone.

“Hello, beautiful,” the big man chirps into the phone.

“Hey um, could you maybe come help me bring up these bags? I’m sitting in your car.” I hear him chuckle into the phone and I feel suddenly shy about my emotionally charged shopping spree.

“I’m on my way.” I hang up and gather an arms full of things including little Hemingway.

“Wow. One dog needs all this?” I turn to see my big framed dark haired man standing behind me. He is so handsome. I melt instantly. I step to him and lean in to kiss him.

“I felt bad for him. I guess I bought a bunch of shit. Look at him though!” I shove Hemingway at Damon. He collects the puppy into his big hands and talks to him in a babbling baby voice. It’s even more absurd than his puppy voice.

“Aw, da widdle man wooks wike he’s sad,” he blabs. Oh God. I hope I don’t look that dumb when I talk to the dog.

“I bet he thinks you’re the town idiot talking to him like that. His name is Hemingway. He could be a literary genius like his name sake for all you know,” I say in a snarky manner.

“Yeah you’re right. I should kiss his furry little ass. Come on. I’ll have the bags brought up.” He tosses his arm across my shoulders and we stroll into the high rise like a real couple with a real puppy. It’s a novel concept in my shitty life. I like it. A lot.